The Empty Eggs.

The eggs were empty, not a chick moved inside.
The eggs were empty, not a chick was alive.
The eggs were cold, and hollow, too.
The eggs were cold, you could see through.
The eggs were hanging on a string,
just a simple sign of spring.
The yolk inside was long gone,
emptied out by someone.
How sad to see an empty sphere,
without a little chickie there.
How pitiful to pass it by,
and not feel to say hi.
Nothing inside, not a thing.
Nothing on that empty-egg string.